untitled drabble up for adoption
by AJB66613
Summary: A drabble of one of the plotbunnies that is up for adoption. A taste, if you will. It had been plaguing my mind for a bit and I had to write some of it down. Raph/Don Don/Bishop? Clones? Dreams of ghosts? Diabolicalness! Where will our heroes be headed!


Drabble, untitled

A bead of sweat drips silently down the back of the agent's neck; if he times this a milisecond too fast or a milisecond too late, the turtles will come down upon him like an avalanche. No, if he wants this to work, then he must make the switch perfectly. The giant mutated alligator known as Leatherhead is busy with working on the cure. Swallowing thickly, he presses a holographic button, silently switching the mutated turtle with an exact replica. He'd been working on the clone for almost a year, and when he heard that Donatello had been mutated twice, he found his opportunity to obtain the perfect specimen. Once he'd been cured and his DNA staballized, of course. He smirks evilly as the two freaks continue working on the cure, unaware of his cleverness.

Donatello feels... odd. Almost as if he's floating. He tries to move something, but nothing happens. He just continues floating on. He can't hear anything, nor can he see anything. Actually, he can't really feel his body, either. Suddenly, a sharp pain erupts down his spine, then just as suddenly, stops. Okay, so he has a spine, that's progress. "Hello, Donatello. Can you hear me?" The genius turtle's blood runs cold as he opens his eyes. He can see now? As well as hear. He stares right into the face of Agent Bishop, his cold, hard face distorted slightly into a painful looking smile. Don isn't fooled for a second. He ignores the man in front of him to assess how he is trapped.

His eyes widen as a gasp escapes his... throat. Well, if you can call a hologram of his throat a true throat. For his body is nothing more than a brain. Just like Baxter Stockman. And his brain, which is floating in some glass container (guess that explains the floating feeling,) is attached to some sort of device that allows a projection of him to see and be seen. He can almost feel his shoulders sag in defeat. "What do you want, Bishop? I can obviously tell that you've dissected me without my brothers' knowledge, no doubt given them a clone?" The smile on the human becomes more real. "Very good, Donatello. Be thankful that you were asleep during the dissection. The monitors said it was quite painful." The once-turtle rolls his holographic eyes. "Yeah, thanks. And I can only imagine that you now want me to invent stuff for you, in order to gain a body?" Now the smile on the man is genuine. It's kind of creepy.

"And that is why you are my favorite turtle, Donatello. I never have to explain anything to you. So, will you do it?" The hologram raises its chin in defiance. "I will invent. I have to, elsewise I will go stir-crazy. But, no, I do not want a body." The human's eyebrows raise slightly. "Then what do you want?" "For you to leave my brothers alone. And for that clone of mine to give me progress reports on my family's health and happiness." The smile returns to the agent's face. "Deal."

Raphael tosses and turns. He can't sleep. It's been almost a month and a half since his little brother's mutation nightmare, and while Donnie insists that he's fine and just wants to get back to work, the red-banded turtle has been fussing over the other terrapin. He can't really explain why he's suddenly being all "over-protective, over-bearing big brother," especially since that's Leo's job, but it's the truth. He's been having nightmares of losing Don forever and... he can't. He knows that somehow, someway, the purple banded ninja keeps him grounded. In control. Calm. And without the gentle terrapin, the darkness in his soul would win, and he would kill- everybody. And that thought terrifies him to no end. Having one person have that much power over his behaviour and actions is honestly scary. He also knows that, once pissed off, Don would kill _them_ all- and they wouldn't even know it. And for some unknown reason, the knowledge of Donatello being scarier than him, whilst being a likeable person at the same time, has given Raphael this... attraction to his brother. Like an adrenalin junkie would to some literal adrenalin. Too much, and the stuff will kill you.

Sighing, he rolls to one side and shuts his eyes. He's gotta get some sleep- they have training in the morning. A soft three-fingered hand rests on his shoulder. He turns and opens his eyes to- a ghost. A literal, translucent, pale, sad looking ghost. And not just any old ghost, oh no. The ghost is Donatello. Instantly, Raph is on his feet, fear striking his heart like a hot knife in soft butter."What the fuck?!" The phantom extends his hand towards the corporal terrapin. "Could you love me? Even if I was nothing more than a..." Whilst the apparation spoke, his skin, muscles, bones, shell and organs melted away until the only thing floating there was a brain. And with that, Raphael awoke with a start.


End file.
